


The Redemption of Bill Cipher

by aksarah



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:47:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aksarah/pseuds/aksarah
Summary: He’s cashed in an old favor with an old god, but what does the Axolotl have in mind for Bill? Time marches on in Gravity Falls. Stan and Ford’s whereabouts are unknown, Soos and Melody collect a sizable family of their own, Dipper returns to find himself, again, and Bill enters their lives again in a most unexpected way. (Grown-up!WenDip)





	1. Chapter 1

            On a day in late August, in the year 2012 on the planet Earth in dimension 46’\ Bill Cipher, who had run amok in the universe for eons, was defeated by a handful of mortals. Before he would have perished, he recited an incantation he’d memorized long ago but dreaded ever having to employ. “A-X-O-L-O-T-L, my time has come to burn! I invoke the ancient power that I may return!”

 

            Then everything went dark.

 

.x.

 

            “NO-BOOOODY KNOOOOOWS THE TROUBLE I SEEEEEEN…” Bill sang to himself fairly tunefully in the perpetual twilight of his prison. “NO-BOOOOODY KNOOOOWS BUT ME-EEEEE…”

            He’d been trapped like this for a long time.

            Or had he?

            He tried not to think about it anymore.

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

 

**September, 2023** _(11 years and 1 month later)_

 

            “Everything was supposed to go according to plan,” Dipper muttered bitterly as he drove north, fighting exhaustion with caffeine, loud pop music, and rolled-down windows. “Too bad my plan was worthless.” He scoffed. “Too bad _I’m_ worthless.” His eyes stung and the bubbly, 70’s pop song on the radio chimed _‘If you’re all alone, when they pretty birds have flown, honey I’m still free, take a chance on me.’_ “Shit,” he hissed and took another sip of the strong, cold, black coffee he’d picked up at the Circle K back in Oakland. Not even Abba could cheer him up now. Jessica was gone.

            His overactive imagination and wounded ego dreamed up scenarios where instead of leaving him for a hunky, older actor, Jessica had died after a short, but terminal illness. Dipper sat at her bedside and clutched her hand, and stayed with her until the end. Her headstone was made of the whitest marble and dwarfed all others in the cemetery in his mind. The angry honking of a car horn, dopplering off as it swerved and passed him, the SUV it belonged to missing him by mere inches brought him back to reality. “Shit!” he cried, over-compensated for his leaning into the oncoming lane and rocked his old Honda pickup truck from side to side before it settled back on track.

            Jessica had left him about six months before, just after Valentine’s Day.

            Ever since he was a kid, Dipper had the idea that his perfect girl would be called Jessica. He didn’t know why, it just sounded good. Maybe he’d seen a TV show with a character called Jessica that sparked something in him, he wasn’t sure why the name was special, but he knew when he met Jessica Ngyuen that she was The One. Only a few weeks into freshman year he worked up the courage to approach the cute girl with vintage X-Files t-shirt and they were together through graduation. They got an apartment in LA where she worked as a production assistant and Dipper stocked shelves while he tried in vain to pitch his paranormal investigation show. After two years of struggle, one day, Jessica came home from work and told him she had been seeing an actor from the set of the movie she was working on and that she was moving in with him. Now.

            When Dipper protested, deeply wounded by the suddenness of her departure, she lashed out at him and told him that he’d ‘missed the boat’, that paranormal shows were out and no one wanted to produce something ‘so 90’s’. He watched her pack in stunned silence and remained sitting on the couch, mouth agape, for hours after she’d left.

            He might have been better able to cope with the pain had three other major things not already rocked his happiness.

            First, three years ago, his sister got rich.

            Mabel dropped out of college to pursue her art ‘unfettered by the bonds of academia’. Dipper and their parents had advised against it, fearing for her happiness further down the road. They thought at least if she had a college education she would have something to ‘fall back on’. Mabel moved out of the house she grew up in at 20 years of age because at her very first show (mixed media, mostly recycled items hot-glued into various sculptures and works that hung from the walls) she sold each and every piece and was instantly propelled into art-world stardom. She now owned an apartment in LA, New York, Paris, and Tokyo and got to do whatever she wanted with her life. Initially, Mabel was concerned that her newfound lifestyle would push her and her twin apart, but Dipper insisted that she go. That ‘life happens’. And so for the last few years, he rarely saw her.

            Second, once Mabel moved out and it looked like Dipper would marry Jessica, their parents moved to Hawai’i.

            Being tech workers, they retired early and went to pursue their dream of doing absolutely nothing. Christmas in paradise was kind of nice, but otherwise the parents became even more distant than they had ever been.

            Thirdly, just before Dipper graduated, Stan and Ford disappeared.

            The Brothers Pines had planned on being at the ceremony but when they never even called, Dipper, Mabel and Soos tried everything they could think of (including a séance that turned up nothing but low-level ghosts that bothered them for days) to find them. The last note they received suggested they might be heading for the Bermuda Triangle and so they could do nothing but worry as the weeks dragged on. After a year, Dipper decided that he should just acknowledge that they probably had a wreck and died at sea and Mabel didn’t speak to him for a month before he changed his tune and called to apologize. They were lost somewhere, she gave him that, but Mabel refused to say they were dead until their one-hundredth birthday rolled around.

            These three major life-changes didn’t help Dipper’s ability to pursue his own dreams or keep his relationship together, and in short order, his world crumbled. It was time to re-group. He sold off most of his stuff, packed up, and headed north.

 

            Dipper’s truck rolled into the driveway of 618 Gopher Road a little after two PM on a warm, September day. A handful of tourists were parked nearby and when he got out Dipper could hear Soos’ voice coming from the other side of the Shack. He smiled wistfully and pulled his bags out of the trunk.

            Not wanting to disturb Soos, Dipper entered the house through the family entrance on the back side of the building. He knocked first, but as they were expecting him, he turned the knob and let himself in calling out a greeting as he did.

            The peel of a small child’s screeching laugh made him simultaneously wince and grin with delight. He’d met Soos and Melody’s first child, Stanita Mason “Nita” Pines (as Soos had changed his name to Pines many years before) soon after her adoption was finalized, but she had been just a tiny baby. The family had recently increased to four with the adoption of Melody’s wayward sister Harmony’s child who she had named Jamiroquois after her favorite band (and Melody and Soos christened Jamira Harmony Pines). Dipper smelled the amazing aroma of Soos’s Abuelita's home cooking and heard the distant sound of Melody’s boisterous giggle and a radio playing alternative pop hits from the 1990s coming from somewhere inside. “Hello!” Dipper called, setting his bag down and entering the living room. Seated on the floor playing with a pair of two year old girls, one with braids and one with pig tails, was a slender young woman with her back to him. Her feet were bare, her red hair was short in the back but almost to her chin in the front. She turned her attention from the building blocks before them and gasped.

            He stared down at her, rendered speechless. For a moment, time seemed to stop.

            “Dipper?”

            “Wendy?!”

            “What are you doing here?!” they both asked.

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

 

            When first Bill had appeared in the tiny cage immediately following his defeat at the hands of the Brothers Pines, he raged against the bars, unable to slide between them in his pyramidal shape and unable to phase through them, either. When he made his bargain with the Axolotl, he never guessed he’d wind up in some sort of inter-dimensional solitary confinement. When it dawned on him that’s just what happened, Bill had boiled with angry flames and screamed, cursing the Axolotl on and on until he realized he wasn’t going to get an audience any time soon.

            For a while he sat in the middle of the cage and said nothing. He thought. He plotted. He connived. No escape he conceived of seemed in the least bit plausible if he were to simply be left to rot with no interaction with anyone or anything to trick into letting him out. The never-ending twilight, grey as far as he could perceive, started to wear on him and chinked away at his already feeble sanity (or so he thought) as his mind calmed and dulled.

            He mulled over the last half-century of his existence. Where had he gone wrong? Why did it _always_ go wrong? Why couldn’t he get his hands on that last dimension? What was it that protected the humans there? Was it all the Axolotl’s doing? The humans didn’t seem to have any idea what the Axolotl even was! No. There was something else. Something that always thwarted him. A power he could not grasp and not being able to wrap his brain around what it could possibly be steadily drove him mad.

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

 

**October, 2023**

 

            Wendy drove a motorcycle--a perfectly beat-up Harley Davidson on which she looked even cooler than Dipper could handle. He could hear her coming for about a mile as she rode up Gopher Road and he had plenty of time to get up off the lip of the porch to greet her. He’d been spacing out before he heard the tell-tale engine, staring at the totem pole and imagining he was a young teenager again, hopelessly in love with an impossible girl. Even back then he knew she would go her way and he would go his. Dipper had mapped out his future as he was wont to do (and as his sister groaned was ‘not a way to live’) and that future, he decided, could not contain any frivolous dreams like ending up with Wendy Corduroy.

            If he glanced to his right, he’d see the Stanley Mobile under its faded car-cover and the log cabin Stan and Ford built for themselves almost a decade before. The words “Fort Pines” were engraved in a kitschy carved wood sign hung above the front door. Dipper wondered as he rose to his feet, when his heart would stop twisting every time he thought of them. Then the impossible girl pulled into the parking lot in a flurry of dust and pulled her helmet off. Even with the short hair, Wendy looked like a goddess to him. The same rush of love he’d felt as a boy washed over him and he sighed. _‘Oh well,’_ he thought. _‘At least she’s here. I can be close to her. That’s better than nothing.’_

            “What’s with the face?” she asked, smirking.

            “Just thinking about when I was a kid and how some things never change.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm (which encompassed the Shack as well as the girl) and shrugged.

            She laughed then put her hands on her hips. “Come for a ride with me.”

            Dipper stammered and offered excuses; he didn’t have a helmet, wouldn’t that be dangerous, etc. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Shut up and get on.”

            He did.

            As he cautiously wrapped his arms around her middle at her urging she picked up her helmet and before she put it on she said “you need to get away from this place for a little while. Trust me.”

            Once she had slipped it on and started the engine, he whispered. “I do.”

 

            They wound their way around town and to his surprise went up the big hill to the former Northwest Mansion. Much of the old place had been demolished by its current owner, the wealthy inventor Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. The main hall remained, but the rest of the campus was now comprised of several hangars and workshops. On any given day, the sounds of science and progress could be heard echoing off the surrounding hills.

            Today, it was relatively quiet. Wendy parked the bike and they approached the house. The door was, as usual, open. She called out for the old man and moments later he came into sight from an upstairs room, flying down the stairs in a hovering cross between a wheelchair and a pony.

            McGucket greeted them warmly and invited them into the dining room for snacks. Staff appeared as if commanded telepathically and opened doors, brought in treats, pulled out chairs, then were gone.

            “Well how-dee!” McGucket crowed and slapped Dipper on the back. “Long time no see, you whipper-snapper! Where ya been hidin’?”

            Dipper chuckled a little. “These days? The Shack.”

            McGucket turned quickly to Wendy to verify and she nodded. “Be gentle, Fids. The guy’s had a hard break up.”

            “Ohh…” the old man nodded sagaciously. “Understood. I ain’t aimin’ ta bring ya down none. Life’s too dang short for that sort a hoosafusdge. Say…” He raised a brow over the odd, green spectacles he wore. “Did I hear something new pull up outside, Miss Corduroy?”

            Wendy grinned. “Hell yeah!” She led the way back to the driveway and showed off her ‘new’ baby. Unbeknownst to Dipper, Wendy had been through three bikes already. She asked McGucket what he thought and before she could ask he pointed out a few things he’d fix up for her.

            Dipper smirked. “You sound like an old pro, McGucket. You ride?”

            “Well…” He looked skyward. “I may be workin’ on a little somethin’ of my own…”

            Wendy clapped him on the back. “No shit? Then what are we waiting for!”

The old man’s face lit up and he scrambled for his garage and came zooming back to them on a bike that looked to Dipper like something straight out of an 1980’s anime.

            “Let’s ride!” he cackled and the two bikes screamed off into the countryside.

 

            The “Ride with Fids”, as Wendy coined it, became a highlight of Dipper’s week. He filled his days busying himself helping out with the Shack, doing research, taking hikes, writing, and healing his wounded soul.

            It was working.

**March, 2024**

            One sunny afternoon the following spring, Dipper and Wendy pulled up on their motorcycles (Fids had helped them fix up a junker for Dipper that may or may not have run on plutonium) to find an ambulance parked askew in the driveway. The ambulance doors and the doors to the house stood open and as they leapt from their bikes to see what the matter was, paramedics emerged slowly with a gurney topped by large, black, zippered bag.

            “No…” Dipper whispered and slowed his steps. Suddenly, he remembered in vivid detail the day of his graduation when Stan and Ford had failed to show. How he’d tried to do what everyone told him and get through the day, but how he’d floated through the ceremony, the dinner afterward as if he were only watching it happen, half-interested and falling asleep in front of the TV. Once everyone had gone and Jessica was asleep he snuck out to the kitchen and sat in a chair with a notebook, writing ideas, theories, reviewing the last communications he’d received from the brothers before they vanished off the face of the Earth. Now, as he approached the body-bag containing the remains of Ford’s college friend and co-conspirator, his heart hammered in his ears. “No…” he repeated. “Not again…”

            Wendy, on the other hand, kept right on going and accosted the emergency workers, demanding to know what the hell happened. They couldn’t tell her, but one of his staff who had called them told her he had died in his sleep the night before. Satisfied with that answer, Wendy stopped shouting and stood stock still, hands balled tightly and tried to hold on. _‘Not here,’_ she thought. _‘Keep it together, Corduroy…’_

            Dipper’s mind dulled, just as it had on his graduation. Fear and pain gripped him and dragged him down. He stepped slowly up to Wendy and watched wordlessly as they loaded the gurney into the ambulance. Only when the doors had been shut and the vehicle pulled away did he notice she was crying. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, making his heart skip a beat and he reached out without a thought in his head.

            Later, he would recall that it was the first time he realized how much taller he’d become than she. Dipper pulled a startled Wendy to him and hugged her tightly for just a moment before he realized what he was doing. Wendy cried quietly into his flannel shirt for a few moments, clinging to him for support before she composed herself. It was brief, and soon she gently pushed him away.

            “Thanks…” she muttered.

            “Yeah…” he replied, at a loss for words.

            They would not ride again for another two months.

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

 

            Bill rocked slowly, legs pulled up and leaning on an angle of his pyramid form. He held his knees and stared straight forward singing “Nobody Knows” over and over until finally the Axolotl came to him.

            It rendered itself visible as if condensed from the never-ending fog surrounding his cage. Bill stared at the undulating pink interdimensional higher-power and his brain slowly registered its presence. He stopped singing and rocking.

            “OH. HI,” Bill said flatly. “SUP?”

            “It is time,” the Axolotl replied, dreamily.

            “FOR...?” asked Bill, coming out of his funk. He stood up and rested his hands on his sides.

            “Your redemption.”

_“REALLY?”_ His eye frowned. “LAST TIME YOU TRIED THAT ON ME I TOOK IT OUT ON DIMENSION TWENTY-TWO-POINT-FOUR-BACKSLASH, REMEMBER? OR MAYBE NOT, BECAUSE THERE’S NOT MUCH LEFT OF IT TO TALK ABOUT, IS THERE? SO HOW YOU FIGURE IT’S GONNA WORK THIS TIME, YOU FLUFFY PINK FROG FROM HELL?”

            The Axolotl smiled. This deeply unnerved Bill. “You invoked the boon I bestowed upon you many eons ago…”

            “AND YOU LOCKED ME UP! SOME BOON. THAT’S A RAW DEAL, AXY.”

            “I said nothing of what my mercy entailed, Bill Cipher. You are lucky to be alive. Perhaps you should be a bit more grateful?”

            “YOU ARE REALLY STARTING TO PISS ME OFF, YOU KNOW THAT?”

            “Yes, I do,” it said, and swam in a delighted circle through the aether. “Before you can receive my gift, you must first look inside yourself.”

            “GIFT SCHMIFT. THIS IS BOGUS! EITHER LET ME OUT OF HERE OR KILL ME OFF, _PICK ONE!”_ his voice boomed.

            The Axolotl giggled then opened its wide mouth and spoke in verse:

 

_Your desire for conquest is misdirected_

_Their true source of power lies undetected_

_It can be found in others’ eyes_

_See it and you’ll realize_

_What once was lost will now be found_

_Open your heart--how sweet the sound_

_A second chance is within your grasp_

_If only you choose the proper path_

 

            “WHAT THE HECK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” he shouted.

The Axolotl nodded a little, tipping its body up and down slowly as if that were a good enough reply, and turned to go. As its image dispersed back into the mist, Bill heard it say “good-bye, Bill Cipher. And good luck.”

            “WAIT! DON’T YOU _DARE_ LEAVE ME ALONE IN HERE AGAIN! DAMN IT, GET BACK HERE! I’M NOT--” Bill could not finish his tirade. In an instant, he was plunged into darkness.

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

 

**May, 2024**

 

            Wendy laughed a happy, light-hearted laugh with a hint of exhaustion coloring the timbre. She lay back against the deck and let its residual warmth fight the chill she’d gotten in the spring air. “That was so fun,” she breathed. “I think that’s the first time I’ve enjoyed a ride since we lost Fidds. It’s about time.”

            “Yeah,” Dipper agreed. “It is. About time.” His stomach threatened to rebel against him but he took a few calming breaths and mustered his resolve. “Wendy, I’m going back to California.” She didn’t immediately respond and he didn’t dare turn to face her. He focused on a solitary puffy white cloud and prayed to powers he did not believe in that he wouldn’t start crying.

            “Alright,” she said flatly. From the corner of his eye he saw her turn away.

            “Ya know, because, my dream is still out there, somewhere.”

            “The TV show?” she asked, voice muffled.

            “Maybe? I’m not sure anymore.”

            Wendy scoffed, sat up and pushed herself up off the porch lip. She stood and stretched her back. Her hair was getting long. He still thought of her as an angel and the sunlight beaming down gave her a sort of flaming halo. “If you’re not sure, why bother?” she asked, looking out at the yard. “Does it suck here that bad?”

            “N-no!” he blurted. “I love it here.”

            “Then stay. Whatever.”

            Dipper’s heart soared with ‘stay’ and sank with ‘whatever’. The dismissal seemed to echo off the surrounding trees. All he had to do was say something flip like ‘well, see ya later, maybe’ and go inside, closing the door on his hopes forever. It would be so simple, and maybe they could still be friends. Maybe the bubble didn’t have to burst. He didn’t have to ruin it, but his heart felt as if it were cracked in half. If he felt this close to death he might as well go all-out, he figured. Dipper sat up. “I talked to Mabel last night,” he said.

            “Oh?” Wendy asked, still not turning around.

            “She doesn’t think I should go, either. But she also thinks that I should tell you how much I love you and how I never want to be without you ever again, but I told her that would be awful because if you _don’t_ love me, then I’ll lose my best friend. But If I don’t tell you, Wendy, I feel like I might just as well crawl in a hole and die as go back to California. So, I love you. I always have.”

            She balled her hands into fists and trembled and Dipper wondered for a few agonizing seconds if she was going to turn around and punch him in the gut as she had in so many of his self-deprecating fantasies. “I don’t want to need you,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to need _anyone_ anymore _ever._ I’ve tried this with so many people and it always ends and I’m always left alone again. These last eight months have been so great. I have literally never been happier, even with losing Fids, even with being stressed out having to live with my dad and his boyfriend... Having you here, palling around. You are my best friend, Dipper. Don’t leave,” she demanded.

            Dipper stood. She had heard his admission. She had not rejected him. She wanted him. His vision blurred a little. “I will never leave you,” he said quickly.

            At last she turned to him, her face an unreadable mask. “You mean it?”

            “Do you love me?”

            “I dunno,” she whispered, brows arched. “Come’ere.” Wendy reached out and grasped a fist full of his shirt and pulled him toward her. She embraced him, gripping his back tightly, pushing her face into his neck and breathing deeply. Her body relaxed and melted against his nervous, tense frame. “Yeah. I do. I love you. Shit. _Shit_ I love you so much, fucking _don’t leave._ Don’t leave me. _”_

            “Never!” he spouted. The tension broken, his arms encircled her and joyful tears escaped his eyes. “Never, ever, ever.”

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

 

            The bars of his cage were gone. Everything was gone. His very self seemed gone. The dark was complete. Eternal. Perfect. He floated in nothingness, unable to use a single one of his senses or to cry out--only think--and the thoughts that entered his mind were terrible. The darkest of fears crept upon Bill unhindered by ego as he spun through the void. Nowhere was there even so much as a point of light for reference and he felt more lost than he had ever been. His soul ached for something to ground him and for the first time in millennia, Bill Cipher knew what true fear was. He knew it and there was no escape. None of his amusements were there to distract him from the intense pain of his existence--it was all there was--his being and his immense loneliness. He searched his soul for something, anything to give him succor and ease his suffering, but he found every one of his memories empty, broken by betrayal and lies.

            He’d always had a keen sense of self-preservation. Even when he taunted the Axolotl to kill him, he’d intended to use any action made against him as leverage to free himself. Bill descended further down the spiral, grasping for something to pull himself up out of the endless night until he found himself at his wit’s end. He’d reached the very bottom. All pretense was stripped away until all that was left was a raw nerve that felt only cold. And Bill Cipher despaired.

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

**October, 2026**

 

            Not having any real idea of how long he’d been in the void, unsure even of who or what exactly he was, anymore, a word Bill had not used in countless millennia spilled from his soul. It creaked and cracked as if through disused vocal chords, tinny and hollow.

            “PLEASE…” Bill Cipher begged.

            At once he felt a glimmer of warmth that he’d forgotten completely, one nearly erased from his memory, but this spark was more eternal than even the void.

            His eye shot open.

            “MOTHER!” he cried out in agony. “I’M SORRY!”

 

            The void cracked open. The world shifted. He was thrust violently forward and all he could see was a bright red, warmth, like the color of fresh, vibrant blood. A great, hot pressure bore down on him over and over.

            Then another shift. Cold now. Shivering. His epidermis tightened painfully and suddenly he realized he couldn’t breathe. _‘I need to breathe?’_ He wondered. _‘I need to breathe!’_ he screamed, but all that came out was a wailing cry. _‘I can breathe!_ ’ he thought. _‘Why does it hurt? Why does everything hurt?! Ah, pain is_ not _hilarious...’_ Something was brushing against him. Something wet, then dry, moving him. Sounds he could not make out very well--voices it seemed--muffled and muted were all around him. A distant beeping. He tried to open his eye. The world was bright. Too bright. _‘Why can’t I see? This shouldn’t be this hard. What are those sounds? And what is that smell? Where am I?’_

            He descended and came to rest against something soft. The action immediately calmed him. The warmth returned, soft and humming, so familiar yet so totally odd at the same time. Something stroked his cheek and at last his surprisingly stereoscopic vision and hearing came online.

            “He’s perfect,” she said, smiling from ear to ear. She was crying.

            Bill looked up at his mother.

            She was crying, but happy? No. _Overjoyed._ She bowed and kissed his forehead. “Welcome to the world,” she whispered and looked up to her right.

            Another hand reached out and touched his face, smoothed the few strands of hair back. The hand seemed bigger than his entire being. “Hey,” his father greeted him, his voice rumbling like distant thunder, soft and promising. “Uh, I don’t know what to say,” he said softly. “He’s amazing. You’re amazing.” His eyes were green. Her eyes were green. And what Bill did not yet know was that his own eyes, too, were green.

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**June, 2033 - Seven years later**

 

            Going to the mall was always a challenge for the Pines family.

            Between the four parents who resided at 618 Gopher Road there were a total of six children under ten years old: Soos and Melody’s four adopted children; Nita (2021), Jamira (2022), Lan-chi (2030), and Frank (2029) and Dipper and Wendy’s two; Daniel (2026) and Camille (2028). The Mystery Shack “compound” had expanded to three structures: the Shack where the Soos Pines family lived, Ft. Pines--Stan and Ford’s abandoned and shuttered residence, and Dipper and Wendy’s home, unofficially referred to as ‘the Hovel’. After Fiddleford McGucket’s estate was settled, the Pines family found themselves the inheritors of more money than they ever dreamed of having. Improvements were made to the Shack, the Hovel was built, college funds were set up, and no one worried about whether they could feed or clothe their children again.

            Though the cost was not really an issue, the chaos of all six of them in a public place at once was stressful enough to require at least two parents to accompany them wherever they went. This time it was Melody and Dipper’s turn to get them all outfitted with shoes. It took what seemed like hours to accomplish, mostly without tears thanks to the promise of IHoP afterwards.

            By the time the family trundled into the eatery, Dipper was dragging. He corralled the littlest ones in front of him through the door and paused as he noticed his son had stopped to examine a sign close to the entrance.

            Daniel was an odd kid. He was just finishing up first grade that year and it had been a struggle. Doctors thought that he might be on the Autism spectrum owing to his often highly odd behavior, but the family wasn’t sold. He was just a Pines. They were a weird bunch who for the most part didn’t mesh well with their peers.

            Earlier in the year, Daniel had ended up in the principal’s office and suspended from school for a few days for locking a kid in a janitor’s closet. It wouldn’t have been such a heavily-punishable offense if he hadn’t admitted to it so plainly and explained his reasoning. The other child was a bully, he said. He had been tormenting a friend of Daniel’s for weeks so he decided that since no one else was doing anything to stop him, he would punish him, himself. What better way to correct his behavior, Daniel explained, than to have him sit in the dark and think about what he’d done. He had wanted to duct tape the kid’s hands, feet, and mouth, but a teacher found the tape in his desk and took it away from him. Rather than being trapped in the closet until someone next opened it, the child was released only minutes later when someone heard him banging on the door.

            Daniel had to see a counselor for weeks afterwards. Dipper and Wendy had been furious with the school, and terrified for their son. After this incident, Daniel was much more reserved, quieter, and asked the oddest questions sometimes.

            Dipper stood next to him. “What’s up, bud?” he asked, seeing the look of confusion on his face.

            “It’s Father’s Day soon…” he said, staring at a sign advertising a discount on Moons over My Hammy that read in large letters: DADS & GRADS. “Why did they spell ‘Grampas’ like that? And aren’t they ‘Dads’, too?”

            Dipper blinked for a second. “Ah, ‘grads’ is short for ‘graduates’. Because graduations from school are around this time, they’re combining the celebration sales for Father’s Day with graduation day.”

            Daniel nodded, satisfied. “Huh,” he said and made his way to the table. “You’re a dad. Are you a grad, too?”

            “I sure am,” he said a bit proudly, but the memory of that awful graduation day flooded in and he wilted a little as he slid into the booth next to Camille and Nita. On the other side, Melody had Frank in a high-chair at the end of the table and Jamira and Lan-chi beside her.

            His son, ever observant, looked up at Dipper. “Did I make you sad?” he asked plainly.

            “Aw, no, bud. It’s just, that was a tough time.”

            Melody smiled sweetly at Dipper and he gave her a little nod that said silently, ‘yes, it’s ok. Please, let’s talk to them about this.’

            “You see,” Melody began. She didn’t know how much Daniel loved those two words. It meant he was going to learn something. “That was when your great-great uncles were lost.”

            “Lost?” he asked, leaning forward.

            “Yes. They were sailing in the Bermuda Triangle and they got lost. They’re probably still out there somewhere, sailing in some distant land, unable to find their way home.”

            Daniel turned to his father. “You said they were gone.” His younger sister looked up from coloring on her placemat and listened intently.

            Dipper blinked. “I did? Well, yeah, I mean, they are _gone…_ ” He fidgeted.

            “No. I thought you meant _gone_ gone. Like Grandma Corduroy.”

            “Gramma Corduroy is dead,” five-year-old Camille said quietly. “We went to see her in the cemetery.”

            “Yes, Cammy,” Melody said softly. “And Grunkle Stan and Great-uncle Ford don’t have a spot in the cemetery of their own because they never came home. We don’t know if they’ve passed on or not.”

            To Dipper’s relief, Danny didn’t ask any follow-up questions and the waitress arrived distracting Camille and the other children from the grim topic.

 

            Before Dipper and Wendy kissed their children goodnight that night Daniel looked into his father’s eyes and asked “do you miss them?”

            He wasn’t surprised that the conversation suddenly picked back up hours later and sat down on the bed. Wendy touched his shoulder. “Yeah, bud. We all do.”

            He nodded and closed his eyes.

            In the coming days, Daniel would sleep through the call for breakfast and had to stay home from school for a day or two in the following weeks due to fatigue. A few nights his parents took turns and watched him as he slept to make sure he wasn’t sleep walking or surreptitiously reading at night, but he deeply slept without moving a muscle, only to be exhausted the following day.

 

**July, 2033**

 

            One Thursday night, around one, the house phone rang at the Mystery Shack, startling Melody awake. _‘Oh no, what’s wrong?’_ was her immediate thought followed in a heartbeat by _‘it better be good and it better not have woken the kids up.’_ “‘Lo,” she slurred, brain coming back online after being asleep for only an hour.

            “Melody?” the male voice on the other end asked. The connection was clear and the voice was sort of familiar but she couldn’t quite place it.

            “Yes?”

            “D-did we wake ya?” he asked.

            “Well, _yeah,_ it’s the middle of the night,” she grumbled. “Who is this?”

            Her husband rolled over. In the dim light from the clock-radio she saw him rub his eyes. “Whassamatter?” he asked blearily.

            The man on the telephone chuckled softly. “Sorry, hun. Can you put Soos on?”

            Melody sat up, at last recognizing the voice. “Stan?” she asked, voice shaking. Soos bolted up in bed, repeated the name and Melody thrust the phone at him.

            “Stan?!”

            “Soos!”

            “You’re alive?!”

            “I’m callin’ ya on the phone, ain’t I? Ow!” he shouted. “Alright, alright, my brother just told me to stop bein’ a jerk. Too late for that, Ford. Haha!”

            Soos didn’t reply, his words caught in his throat as tears poured down his face.

            “You still there? Soos?”

            “Y-yeah. I am! Stan! You’re alive! You’re alive!!” he wailed.

            Stan went quiet for a moment then replied with obvious difficulty. “Yeah. I am. Don’t cry. Christ, don’t cry. Shit. Here’s Ford.” On the other end Soos heard Stan say “thanks, Stanford,” in a teary voice before his twin picked up the line.

            “Soos, Ford here,” he said, calm and cool as ever. “We’re back from the Bermuda Triangle. We’re hale and hearty and doing well, but we have no means of transportation. Can you think of a way to get us a ride from Miami to Gravity Falls?”

“Miami?!” Soos shouted. “I know just the gal for the job!” Reluctantly, Soos said good-bye and took the name and room number of the no-tell-motel they were staying in. Soos made two calls (also filled with shouting and tears) before collapsing back to bed, snuggling close with his wife, and muttering over and over again how glad he was that his adoptive father was alive.

 

.x.

            Ford put the handset back in the cradle of the old, beat up motel phone on the stand between the two beds and sighed. “He’ll call Dipper and Mabel. We’re as good as home, Stanley.”

            Stan lay on his bed, one arm over his eyes and nodded. He sucked back the last of his sobs before rubbing his face and sitting back up. “Christ! Didn’t think it’d hit me that hard!” He swung his legs over the side and sprang up, slapping his face a couple times. “Think I’ll take a shower. Ok I go first?”

            Ford nodded.

            “You ok, Ford?”

            He blinked, nodded again a few times and looked up at the television playing with the volume on mute. The vibrant colors throbbed and flickered as an unnecessary amount of graphics splashed across the screen. “Can I turn that thing off? It’s a little overwhelming.”

            Stan turned and looked at the set. It was a flat-screen that must have been over ten years old, but would have been brand new when they disappeared. The national program’s broadcaster was one they recognized, but appeared so much older. “If you can figure out how to!” Stan joked. Ford laughed and grabbed the remote. He hesitated before switching it off.

            Stan passed by a mirror on his way to the bathroom and ran a hand through his hair--his thick, brown hair. “He’s gonna friggin’ faint when he sees us,” he said, chuckling darkly. The twin brothers were indeed ‘hale and hearty’ but they thought that telling Soos over the telephone just how hearty was perhaps not the best idea.

            Once the water was running, Ford sighed again and tried to snap out of his funk. He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a pale grey cloth-bound journal with two stick-figures with interlocking arms over a number six on the cover that Stan affectionately referred to as ‘Bro-Jo-Six’. He flipped through the pages until he came to an entry titled “The Fountain of Youth”.

 

**From the Journal of Stanford Pines:**

            I wondered after not seeing any children or old people among the Nuevo Floridians just what their life-cycle entailed. Once I had mastered their language enough to communicate, I asked one of their sages how old he was. Imagine my surprise when he answered 216! His wife was 332 and his brother was 224! I asked him what the secret to their longevity was...

            The Fountain of Youth!

            Sought after by Ponce de Leon in our world, _found_ by Ponce de Leon in theirs, the fountain of youth is just about how you’d imagine it. Deep in the area we call the Everglades, a spring with restorative powers burbles up from somewhere deep underground. The waters pass through and around certain minerals that we do not have on our Earth that imbue these waters with the power to remove years from any living being that submerges in them. The water cannot be contained and transported as the effects dissipate once exposed to the atmosphere and twenty-four hours after emergence even if bottled. If not for this world’s ‘Great Disaster of 1945’, surely the spring would be overrun by anyone wealthy enough to travel to it. As there were only a few hundred sentient beings residing in the southern part of the continent, we were able to test it ourselves. The results were…

            A bit underwhelming, at first. Paolo told us that he and his family made the trek to ‘The Spring’ every few years and bathed for several days, in his words to the best of my ability to translate: ‘shedding a few kilometers from their odometers’. To them it isn’t so much the number of years, but the toll on their bodies the waters removed that mattered. The rejuvenation is permanent, in that the reduction in age is retained ever afterward, but the natural aging process cannot actually be stopped.

            Stan and I packed up and hiked the well-worn trail to the springs, set up camp nearby, and began our routine on the 14th of December, 2025. We entered the water on the first day as 72-year-old-men. Almost two months later, you wouldn’t say we were a day over 25!

            I am certainly quite pleased with the result, but Stan is over the moon. He never stops moving. When he walks, he dances, when he sits, he wriggles, taps his feet, shimmies his shoulders, clicks his tongue against his restored teeth, and hums happily. His only regret is this world’s lack of eligible bachelorettes, though he does find great pleasure in dancing with everyone’s wife. We have decided that we will return in the coming decades should we remain trapped here as the natives do and restore ourselves again until my search for a predictable portal opening bears fruit. I was so close last week… SO CLOSE!

 

            Ford closed the journal with a soft thud. “Almost a dozen years,” he muttered staring at the now dark television. He replaced the sixth “Brothers” journal and pulled out another marked with a 9 and took it and pen-and-ink with him to a little table next to the TV. He cracked the newish spine open and set to writing.

 

            “March 11th, 2033. Miami Fla (our world). We have returned! I didn’t want to write or even say a word until we had spoken to someone in our family to be certain this was indeed the same world we were plucked from a dozen years ago. We called Soos on the telephone from our motel room just now. We _are_ back! And though my last entry was doubtful of the vision I received that guided us to the right place and time in which the opening to our world erupted, I know now it was not my calculations, as Stan believes, but this dream that saved us. The blond boy with the owl mask in my dream surely means something. Was he sent by a benevolent force? Was it simply my sub-conscious presenting itself in this strange, youthful avatar? I may never know.”

 

            The sound of the shower turning off broke his concentration and he put away the book, pen, and ink. His brother emerged from the bathroom with two towels tied around his waist. Ford snickered at his appearance. Even though he’d tied them under his belly, each bath towel was the size of a standard hand towel and one would not have been enough. “What? You don’t think this is a good look?” Stan asked, raising a knowing brow. “I was thinkin’ about goin’ down to the bar on the corner and pickin’ up some chicks!”

            Ford laughed, but before he could suggest staying in for the night instead, there was a powerful, rapid knock at the door that drained all of the color from Stan’s face. “Shit, cops, already?! I mean, I know we docked illegally, but...” He pressed his face to the door and peered through the peephole. “MABEL!!” he shouted.

            “STAN?! FORD?!” a woman’s voice called from the other side.

            “Hang on sweetie, I gotta get the door unlocked!” he put his finger to his lips and winked at Ford as he slowly flipped the swing bolt and turned the deadbolt. Ford got to his feet and made a face that Stan knew meant ‘I dunno about this, Stanley…’ He paused for dramatic effect then threw the door open, perhaps forgetting his current state of undress. Stan froze, shocked by the very adult woman (roughly the same age as he in appearance) standing in the doorway. She had the most unusual haircut he’d ever seen--part shaved, part braided, different colors and various items (a plastic dinosaur, an active glow stick, and a sort of lopsided tiara made of tiny lollipops) woven into it here and there. She was lightly dressed in a long, blue, sleeveless tunic top with a spray-painted stencil that read “End Times” in the same font as an old 1970’s TV show title in glittering gold letters over top of a pair of green velvet leggings. Dozens of bangles covered her arms, and huge hoop earrings lined her ears. She clutched a giant purse, which, as the initial shock hit her, she swatted at the man who greeted her. It was heavy and covered in metal studs. Stan put his arms up, but the thing still hurt. “Ow! Whoa! It’s ok, it’s me! It’s Stan!” but Mabel screamed and started pummeling him.

            “Mabel! It’s true! It’s us!!” Ford cried, coming to his brother’s rescue. He held up his hands and the extra fingers were proof enough for her to stop hitting Stan.

            “Ford…? _Stan?!”_ she asked.

            Stan laughed and rubbed his bruises. “Ow. Haha. Worth it.”

 _“You…”_ she began. Her brows knitted together. “You _jerk!_ You almost gave me a heart attack!” she cried and flung her arms around his neck. “It’s really you?! What happened?! Where have you been? Am I the only one who doesn’t know you’re young now? What the heck?!” she cried, sobbing as Stan rocked back and forth, hugging her. “And why are you not wearing any shorts?! Holy _moly_ I should _not_ be seeing your butt!”

            “My butt?!” Stan shouted. His brother was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Stan’s towels had come untied as Mabel hugged him and she got a good look at his backside before it was too late.

 

.x.

            The following morning, the Pines woke their children with the good news: their great uncles were alive and coming home. Danny rubbed his eyes and grinned sleepily. “Yeah…” he said softly and shook his head. “Wait, I’m awake?” he asked. “Oh, I mean, that’s great!” He spent the following day home from school again, but much to everyone’s relief seemed to be over his malaise the following day.

 

            The next three days seemed to pass at a snail’s pace as Daniel waited to meet Stan and Ford. He now found it easy to ask about them and Soos, Dipper, and Wendy were more than happy to regale him with stories about the unusual men, all the while carefully skating around a certain topic.

            On the second day after school, Daniel got up from watching TV and headed into the kitchen to get a snack and stopped in his tracks. From the other room he overheard his father say to his mother “...when Mabel gets here, it’ll be harder to keep a lid on it--Mabel being Mabel, she’s bound to spout it out.”

            “Eh,” Wendy dismissed his fears. “It’s not like talking about him’ll bring him back or anything, relax…”

            Daniel wanted to hear more, but his sister toddled into the kitchen and the adults quickly changed the subject.

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

 

            _IT’S OK,_ he thought. _THEY DON’T KNOW. AND AS LONG AS THEY DON’T, EVERYTHING IS FINE. THEY LOVE ME. AS LONG AS THAT’S WHAT THEY KNOW, IT’S COOL. IT’S FINE._

            He looked up at the ceiling from where he lay on his bed and focused on a knot in the wood, surrounded by other marks made by the growth of the pine tree from which the board was cut. The knot, like a galaxy--its concentric circles the spiral arms. _I LOST THEM ONCE… I WON’T LOSE THEM AGAIN._

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

 

**Saturday Evening**

 

            Mabel’s graffiti-covered mini-van pulled into the drive of 618 Gopher Road. Six children and four adults stood on the deck of the Mystery Shack and as the van came to a halt, no one moved. The children, having never met the men before, were shy and stuck close to their parents. The parents, not wanting to overwhelm the elderly men, and nervous to see how much they’d aged, waited until they emerged to charge the vehicle.

            “I think I’m gonna throw up,” Dipper whispered.

            “You and me both, brother,” Soos added, pale and trembling with anticipation.

            Mabel jumped out of the driver’s side and sang a wordless carnival tune as she ran around to the passenger side. “Ya tatata tataa, ya tatata tataa…!” She gripped the handle and put a leg up to wrench it open - the dents on the side indicating that this was a standard method of door-opening. She stepped back and with the widest grin she could manage without hurting herself, she struck a pose and waved jazz-hands. Two men leapt from the van and all three shouted “Tada!!” at the top of their lungs.

            Soos’ eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground.

            “Ha!” cried Stan. “Twenty bucks!”

            Mabel slapped the bill she had prepared into his outstretched hand. “Worth it!” she agreed.

            Ford chuckled. “Hello, everyone! Uh...surprise!”

            Wendy finally managed to look away as she heard her husband laugh. “Shut. _Up!”_ he shouted and dashed toward them.

 

**Sunday Morning**

**From the Journal of Stanford Pines:**

            Home!!

            For the second time I have been pulled from certain doom in a parallel universe and am able to return to the one place I have ever felt I can truly call home. My brother, nieces and nephews, and all these kids swarm around the place and a third structure has been added to our little compound to house Dipper and his family. It’s like its own town, now, buzzing with life. As a certified introvert, it will take me some time to become accustomed to the noise. But I still have the lab and our house (when not filled with other people as it is at present) will serve as respite enough, I’m sure.

            Stan is still sleeping, having worn himself out running around with the little children (I suppose I can’t refer to Dipper and Mabel as children anymore!). They adore him, of course. Who doesn’t? Mabel is attempting to help Melody make breakfast and Dipper is minding the little ones outside while his wife sleeps back in their house. Soos is sawing a cord of wood on my couch not far from where I write this and I can hear Stan doing the same from his room down the hall.

            Last night we gave them the abridged version of what happened, saving some of the longer, more detailed stories for another time. Dipper was particularly interested in how it was that we found our way home. His mind is so sharp - I’m looking forward to collaborating with him on many a project in the coming years and beyond. I’m delighted that I now have those years to spend with him. Thanks to the fountain’s powers, I’m technically a few years _younger_ than he!

            I let a little about the dream that guided us home slip and what little I said about it seemed to worry Dipper. He’s asked me to speak to him about it, but I want to wait until Stan is awake, as I don’t think I’ve told him exactly what I saw...

 

.x.

            The six children that Mabel affectionately referred to as Stanny, Jammy, Danny, Cammy, Lanny, and Frank (and whose names had to be said in that order) played together in front of the Mystery Shack. A gate at the end of the driveway barred tourists from entry and a sign saying simply “Closed for Private Event” shooed them away. Mabel took a deep breath and sucked down the sugary, coffee-flavored cream beverage she’d made for herself. She smiled on her niblings, the oldest of which, Nita and Jamira (Stanny and Jammy to Mabel) had a game of Candyland going on the porch. Camille, Lan Chi, and Frank, the youngest of them, had Tinker Toys scattered everywhere on the lawn and were building who-knows-what with the antique pieces. Melody emerged with a book and sat down on the couch to watch over them and Daniel sat on the lip of the porch and kicked his feet nervously against the latticework. Mabel flopped down next to him.

            “What’s shakin’ Dan-my-man?” she asked.

            “I wanna talk to them,” he said quietly.

            “Aw, I know, but they’re talkin’ ‘bout grown-up stuff right now, kiddo,” she said, referring to the discussion taking place in Fort Pines between Dipper, Wendy, Soos, Stan, and Ford. Mabel wandered out after she realized they were just rehashing things that she and the the two former-old-men had discussed at length for three days on the drive to Oregon.

            “I just want to know how they got lost,” he admitted bluntly, taking Mabel aback. “They didn’t really fill us in on everything…”

            “And they will, one day. You’re only _seven_ ,” she said and put an arm around his slender shoulders. “Enjoy being a kid for now. Trust me. Knowing things is heavy. You should enjoy being able to play and stuff without thinking too hard for now.”

            “Too late for that, Aunt Mabel,” he mumbled. “Besides…”

            She looked down on him and her blood ran cold as she saw his eyes widen, his expression freeze. He was staring out at the woods with a look of horror on his face.

            “Danny? What’s wrong?”

            “Run,” he said, pushing her arm off his shoulders and jumping down from the porch. “Run away…”

            His little sister glanced up and saw his odd expression and it scared her. She dropped her toys and ran to him, clutching his arm protectively. “No…” He whispered.

            Mabel stood and finally saw what Daniel seemed to have sensed before it arrived. A huge, blueish-grey blob of a monster loomed over the woods and entered the clearing, blotting out the sun with its presence. It had a semblance of a face, large, sparse, sharp-looking teeth in a gaping mouth, spindly arms with clawed hands, but no legs. “Come oooooout, Ciiiiipherrrrr! I knowwww you’re therrrrrrre!” It called, bass voice booming, echoing off the buildings.

            Mabel leapt off the porch and ran in front of Daniel and Camille. “Melody! Get the kids in the Shack, now!”

            The mother did not argue and dragged those too stunned to run on their own into the house. Daniel stood, fixed to the spot and Camille refused to leave him.

            “Danny! Run! Now!” Mabel shouted and stretched her arms out, trying to draw the monster’s attention to her. When he still didn’t budge even with Camille’s screaming and tears for motivation she turned around and begged him. “Protect Cammy! Go!”

            Daniel shook his head and seemed to regain consciousness with her words. He grabbed his sister’s arm and headed not for the Shack, but made a beeline for Stan and Ford’s house. Mabel turned to face the monster again.

            “Cipher’s dead! Go away!” she shouted.

            “Noooo he’s noooot,” it moaned. “Come ooouuuuut…” It began to move toward Fort Pines and Mabel picked up the Tinker Toy box and threw it ineffectively at the blob. It stopped, glanced down at her, took a deep breath and blew a pale colored gas over her. Mabel collapsed just as Daniel turned to look over his shoulder.

            “Aunt Mabel!!” he screamed. Footsteps thundered around him as Stan, Ford, Dipper, and Soos raced past him and toward the monster. He turned to face the house again and his mother pulled the two of them through the front door and slammed it behind her.

            An awful silence followed for a beat before Camille started to cry once more and Wendy did her best to shush her. “It’ll be ok. We’ll protect you,” she whispered. Daniel stood, transfixed, facing the door. In the cool shadowy interior, it seemed like time stopped for a moment. If not for his sister’s cries, it could have been a peaceful Sunday morning like any other. He trembled as the shock started to wear off and fear set in. His mother reach up and tried to soothe him and to draw him further from the door. “Come on, bud, we gotta get to the basement,” she said. He turned to follow her just as the door and much of the wall crashed in, knocking them down.

            “Ciiipherrrrr,” the blob monster called lethargically as he retracted his clawed arm from the wreckage. “I want annnnswerrrrrrrs…”

 

            Moments before, the Pines men faced off against the blob. Besides this otherworldly behemouth, they were shocked to see Mabel’s crumpled form lying on the ground behind it. Soos shouted his intention to help her and protect his children and Stan barked back that he’d cover for him. Soos ran around the back of the Hovel to the front of the Shack where Mabel lay on the ground. He tried to rouse her and when that failed, with superhuman strength he picked her up and carried her into the house. Dipper, knowing his children were behind him, stood his ground. Stan slapped a bat into the palm of his hand, unsure if it would be effective, but hoping he could hurt this thing.

            “Cipher is gone!” Ford bellowed, shouldering a long-gun reminiscent of the beam cannon he had attempted to destroy Bill with. “Leave this place!”

            The blob gave a bemused hum and with a wave of one arm sent a pressure wave toward them that knocked them all off their feet and sent Ford’s gun tumbling away from him. With another gesture and some unintelligible words, the blob raised a claw and a glittering purple cage rose from the ground, surrounding and containing the men. They could only watch and scream as the blob then pressure-waved the front of Fort Pines to splinters.

 

            Wendy lay stunned half under rubble, propped up against the far wall. Daniel got up off the floor and pushed boards away from him and his sister, whom he had leapt for and successfully protected from injury. Blood trickled from the back of his head and he saw stars, but the adrenaline was pumping. “Cammy, come on. We gotta go,” he said, but the girl clung heavily to him, screaming in fear, and he could not get her to move.

            The blob swiped at them and his claws dug deep into the room. For the most part, he was clumsy and they missed them, but one claw caught the edge of Camille’s backpack.

            The look of shock and terror on his sister’s face as she was wrenched from his arms and pulled out through the splintering wood burned itself into Daniel’s mind forever. Her mouth opened but she made no sound, the wind knocked out of her as she flew up toward the beast.

            “What haaave we heeeeere?” the blob purred and hoisted the stunned girl up to its face to get a better look. It took a deep sniff, pulling her hair and clothes closer to its drooling, toothy maw.

            Wendy scrambled past Daniel and gawked at the scene in the yard and screamed in horror. Dipper, Ford, and Stan cried out from their cage, trying in vain to distract the monster. Dipper wrenched the muscles in his arms trying with all his might to pry the rather solid spectral bars apart. His hands bled with the effort.

 

            Daniel’s mother’s words echoed in his skull.   _“It’ll be ok. We’ll protect you...”_ The boy shuddered as a strange pulse of a shiver ran from his head to his toes. He balled his hands into fists, clenched his teeth, bent his knees and leapt out of the remains of the shed.

            “Raxus!” Daniel shouted. “Let her go!”

            The demon turned its head with a sickening wet crunch toward the child hovering in the air before him, eyes pressed tightly shut. His jeans and t-shirt disintegrated and reformed stitch-by-stitch into a black and yellow tuxedo. His brown hair turned golden, one long shock of it covered his left eye, and his grimace was full of sharp, pointed teeth. He extended his right hand and a cane materialized for him to grip, a tall top hat popped into existence and rested on his head. He opened his right eye--his glowing, yellow right eye. “YOU DEAF, PAL? I SAID _LET HER GO.”_

 

            Daniel didn’t notice how quiet the scene had gone, he was too focused on the demon and his sister. His parents and uncles gaped at the boy, still small in stature, but utterly transformed. “Bill…” Dipper whispered and let his tortured hands fall to his sides. “No… It can’t be…!”

            Stan caught him before he fell down. “Hang in there, Dipper,” he whispered. “This ain’t over yet.”

            “Bill…” Ford hissed through his teeth. _“How…?”_ His mind reeled trying to understand what he was seeing. “It was _Bill…!”_

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 

            The demon laughed. “What have you donnnnne to yourself, Cipherrrrr? Wearing a meat suit these daaaaays?” Disinterested with the mewling little girl hanging from his fingernail, he twisted his hand and she slid off of it. Before she could cry out, she was surrounded by a bright blue glow and was flying away from the beast and toward her brother.

            “Danny?” she whispered as she was brought close to him.

            “IT’S OK, CAMMY,” he said in Bill Cipher’s voice, not turning to face her. “BIG BROTHER’S GONNA MAKE THE BAD GUY GO AWAY NOW.”

            She blinked in awe. The image of the top hat, cane, and tails would ever after be one she’d associate with strength and safety. Daniel glanced down quickly to ascertain where the best place to put his sister might be and caught his mother’s eye. She stared up at them, her face painted with fear for her children’s safety. Slowly, as he baited Raxus, Daniel moved his sister to the ground not far from Wendy and she raced to scoop her up. “Danny?!” Wendy shouted, voice cracking.

            The boy only nodded.

            Wendy clutched her crying daughter to her chest and took a deep breath before shouting “get ‘im!!” at the top of her lungs. Daniel grinned, gave her a thumbs-up, spun his cane around a few times and charged the beast.

 

            Stan and Dipper watched the fight with a mix of horror and keen interest that unsettled them both. They said nothing. Ford gripped the bars of the cage tightly. “It was Bill. It had to have been…” he muttered, anxious for the fight to be over. Anxious to be let out of the cage and get some answers. “Has he possessed Daniel? Why did he transform? How does he have such power?!” he asked aloud as Daniel buffeted the demon with energy blasts that shook the hills.

 

            “YOU WANTED ME, RAXUS? YOU GOT ME.” he growled and sent it crashing into a stand of trees, flattening them. He hoped the demon didn’t realize that he was trying to push it further from his family. “SO WHA’DJA WANNA CHAT ABOUT?”

            “You are noooooot supposed to be this powerfulllll!” it whined. “When you held opennn the portal to this worrrrld, I thought for suuure you were back! And yet this worrrrld is not youuurs. What is your plaaaaan this time, Cipherrr? I want a piece of the aaaaaction!” Raxus countered, striking Daniel and sending him flying back, closer to the humans. “You left me to roooot, powwwwerless without you when you leffffft. If you’re taking oooover this worrrld, we still have a deeeeeal. I want iiiin!”

            Daniel generated a shield to cover the people just below them as Raxus hurled a giant boulder at him. It shattered into pieces and rained down around them. Daniel growled. “RAXUS. YOU KNOW ME BETTER THAN THAT…” he clutched his cane and it glowed and transformed into a familiar shape. He lifted a golden replica of Ford’s beam cannon to his shoulder. “THE PLAN CHANGED. _NO DEAL.”_

“Waaaait! You can’t kill meeee!”

            “YOU’RE RIGHT, I CAN’T. BUT I CAN BLAST YOUR EXISTENCE INTO A MILLION DIFFERENT DIMENSIONS.” He charged the gun and it hummed ominously. “TELL EVERYONE YOU MEET, RAXY OLD CHUM, THAT THIS WORLD BELONGS TO BILL CIPHER. ANYONE WHO WANTS IT HAS TO GET THROUGH ME.” Raxus could not get its bulk out of the way fast enough and Daniel shot it. The demon seemed to explode for a millisecond then implode on itself with a keening whistle concluding with a comical ‘pop’. Then everything was silent but for the soft weeping of a little girl.

 

            Daniel floated back down to Earth. The gun shrank back up into its usual form and with a wave, the cage that held his father and uncles disappeared. He touched down and walked slowly toward his mother and sister. Wendy watched him closely, stroking Camille’s head and shushing her, telling her it was all over. The girl looked up and saw the odd-looking boy in the formal attire approach her. “Danny!” she cried and almost knocked her mother down to run and embrace him. He fell to his knees and hugged her tightly as his aspect returned to normal. Wendy stumbled as she rushed to them both and pulled them close, weeping with relief. Daniel said nothing, but rubbed his tears into his mother’s shoulder.

            Stan and Ford helped Dipper to his feet; stunned in both mind and body. He called out to his wife “Wendy, be careful!” and she ignored him. “Wendy!!”

            “It’s alright, Dipper,” Ford said, putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

            “No it’s not!” he shouted and shrugged him off. “What do you want with my son, Bill?!” Livid, Dipper took a few staggering steps toward the boy, his eyes wide. “Did you make a deal with him or something?! Huh?!”

            “Dipper…” Wendy whispered, loosening her grip on her children. Daniel squeezed her tighter for a moment, then slipped out from under her arms. His father was only a few steps away now, shaking with anger and breathing heavily.

            “We defeated you before and we will defeat you again!” Dipper snarled. “I won’t let you have my son!”

            Daniel’s eyes, wet with tears, flicked to each of his relatives. Stan glanced away. Ford lowered his outstretched hand. Wendy and Camille’s brows arched with concern and fear. Finally, his green eyes rested on the heart-broken look on his father’s face and he tensed. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say as he pulsed with yellow light and vanished.

 

.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.^.

 

            An hour later, the shattered family gathered at the Mystery Shack. Melody took her children up to their rooms and played games with them and kept them as oblivious of what was going on as possible. Camille had refused to go with them unless her parents went with her. She was fussy and pitched a tantrum so they told her to take a nap. She curled up on the overstuffed chair in the corner of the living room and promptly fell asleep, so the adults decided to leave her there rather than fight her. Mabel lay stretched out on the couch. Stan pulled a gaudy crocheted afghan over her and tucked her in. He stroked her forehead and quietly begged her to wake up, but she didn’t show a single sign that she knew he was there.

 

            The five of them gathered around the table on the other side of the room under the stained glass lamp and tried to figure out what to do next. Ford tapped his many fingers on the table, lost in thought, and a leaden silence fell over them as if talking about Daniel’s transformation would make it more real than it already was.

            At last, Ford spoke, offering a simple, effective way to get Daniel to return.

            “We can summon him,” he stated plainly.

            “Have you lost your fucking mind?!” Dipper hissed, trying not to wake Camille.

            Ford winced and Stan grumbled something about letting cooler heads prevail that didn’t exactly sound supportive. Ford slumped his shoulders. “I understand your feelings as a father, Dipper. I do. Please consider this: your son has vanished and we cannot retrieve him through conventional means. Also consider my confidence which, I acknowledge, has been faulty in the past...” He cleared his throat. “However, I am confident that it wasn’t my calculations that saved Stan and me from the Bermuda Triangle. I was given that information in my dreams by _a blond-haired boy.”_

            Everyone gasped.

            “For Chrissake Sixer!” Stan cried. “After the last disastrous time you got tipped off by a voice in your head you thought ‘oh sure, this sounds legit’!”

            Ford raised his hands defensively. “I admit I was more than a little desperate to get home. In my defense, he didn’t appear as the triangle that tortured me. The boy’s appearance was shadowy and he wore a mask with what looked like the face of an owl. He told me that my family missed me and that he would search for the next opening to our home world. Stan and I sailed to the heart of the Triangle and waited. A week later, I was briefly thrust into the Mindscape and the boy hurriedly told me that the opening had appeared nearby. His coordinates were not suspicious! They were very close to those that I had calculated, myself! I urged Stan to rush to the scene and it was right where he said it would be. That boy was Daniel--I have no doubt--using Bill’s powers just as he did today.”

            Wendy looked to Dipper and Soos. “Remember how just before they came home, we told Danny what really happened to Stan and Ford? He didn’t know before then. When he heard you were maybe still out there somewhere, he was really upset about it. Wondered why we hadn’t told him the truth...”

            Soos nodded slowly. “Oh yeah, little guy was sick that week,” he said softly. “Stayed home from school. Slept a lot.”

            Dipper sucked in a breath but said nothing. He rubbed his right thumb over his index finger repeatedly for want of a pen to click.

            Ford nodded. “He may have worn himself out travelling to the Mindscape to help us.” He held out his six-fingered hand to his nephew. “Let me help get him back. Please.”

            Dipper closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He folded his arms around himself. “I don’t like this,” he said. “I don’t know if I can ever trust anything to do with Bill. How is it that _you_ can, Ford?”

            Ford looked sheepishly to his extended hand, only now seeing the parallel, and let it drop to his side. “Because the Bill I knew would never do a single thing without expecting something in return, and he’d certainly never apologize.”

            Stan stood up. “That’s great, but what if we’re wrong?”

            Wendy suppressed a curse as her daughter whimpered in her sleep “I want my son back,” she hissed. “How about you chuckleheads figure out what to do about Bill _after_ that?”

            “But Wendy, what if he’s Bill and _not_ our son?”

            Ford shook his head. “I think you’ve got it mixed up.” He held his own hands together. “I believe your son Daniel _is_ Bill.”

            “Gee, thanks, Ford. I feel so much better now!” Dipper cried sarcastically and Wendy shushed him again.

            Stan frowned. His brows furrowed deep in thought. He paced a few steps away and his gaze unfocused as he stared at Mabel.

            “Dipper, _Darling,”_ Wendy said through clenched teeth. “Daniel _is our kid._ You saw the look on his face before he disappeared! He deserves forgiveness and love even if he isn’t Bill, but maybe _more_ because he _is_.”

            “Whoa,” Soos breathed. “That’s some heavy stuff, dude.”

            Wendy pivoted, a little annoyed with his comment. “What about you, Soos? What would you think if it were Nita this was happening to?”

            He pursed his lips and collected his thoughts for a second. “My kid is my kid. If she turns out to be a… a panther, or a lawyer, or sentient patch of haze, she’s still my kid.”

            “Soos,” Dipper piped and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “What if your kid was a lawyer who threw you down a flight of stairs and tried to destroy everything you loved and the entire universe you live in?”

            Ford nodded. “Ah yes, the universe! Consider that this might be our chance to save the entire known universe from Bill. If he’s given a second chance…”

            Dipper opened his mouth to argue but Stan cleared his throat. “Alright, shut up for a second. I wasn’t sold on trusting him until I heard what Wendy and Soos just said…” he rubbed the back of his head. “Bein’ someone who was once a huge jerk and a screw up…” Ford tried to protest, but Stan waved him off. “I can relate. Dipper, it wasn’t until you and Mabel came into my life that I started to change. That I saw that Soos wasn’t just some weird kid--he was my son. That Ford wasn’t just a ghost reminding me how useless I was--he was my brother. And I loved all’a ya,” he said, sniffling, trying to hold back his tears. “Once I got that, I was saved. If it weren’t for you two, I woulda been lost. Maybe that’s why Bill’s where he is, and who he is.”

            Dipper rubbed his face. “So, what? You’re saying God or something made him our kid so that he could get in on this sweet, sweet, Pines Family lovin’?”

            Stan looked to his brother. Ford just shrugged. “Yeah,” he said.

            Before Dipper could protest some more everyone jumped as Camille let out a terrified scream. Dipper knocked his chair over as he bolted for her. She was sitting up in the chair, crying. Despite the noise, Mabel slept on.

            Camille threw her arms around her father and babbled something fairly incomprehensible. “You had a bad dream?” he asked. “It’s ok. You’re awake now, it’s ok…” He glanced up at the others with a terrified look that told them instantly what he was thinking. That maybe this had something to do with Bill.

            “Where’s Danny?!” Camille wailed. “He’s gotta come fix it!”

            “Come fix what, Sweetie?” Dipper asked.

            “My dream. He always fixes it.” She rubbed the palm of her little hand into an eye and pouted, calming down.

            Her father’s voice shook. “H-how does he fix it?”

            She looked up at him, the change in his timbre triggering a sympathetic response. “He goes in and makes the bad things go away. He fights the monsters, Daddy. He tried to teach me how, too, but I’m too scared.”

            Dipper’s heart flew into his throat and he whispered his wife’s name as quietly as he could. She was at his side in an instant and took Camille from him before he dropped her. All the color drained from his face. His son had powers. His son helped ease his sister’s fears. His son retrieved Stan and Ford from a distant dimension. His son was out there somewhere, and he was sorry for what he’d done.

            His son, Dipper allowed himself to think for the first time, was Bill Cipher. He dropped to his knees, grasping the side of the chair for support so that he didn’t fall over completely and started to shake and gasp.

            Wendy rocked her daughter in her arms, putting on her ‘everything is totally chill’ face and working her mother-magic.

            Stan and Soos rushed to Dipper’s side, drawing him away so that his panic attack wouldn’t upset his daughter. They sat him down on the chair he’d knocked over and crouched before him, holding his knees and muttering words of gentle encouragement. When Dipper had stopped hyperventilating Soos told him he could use his bedroom to go lie down for a while and wordlessly, Dipper nodded and agreed. Once Camille was asleep, Wendy went to join him and Soos went to help Melody, upstairs.

 

            The living room was quiet again. “Never a dull moment, eh, Sixer?”

            “Hm…” Ford nodded. He was seated on the floor, jotting down notes in one of his journals. Stan scoffed, a little abrasively and he looked up. “I’m sorry. I figured I’d use the lull to take some notes.” He closed the book and set it aside. “What did you say?”

            “Never a dull moment,” he repeated.

            Ford made a bemused face. “Imagine being bored,” he said quietly. “I can’t.”

            Stan chuckled. “You think this is gonna be ok? My guts are in turmoil worryin’ about Mabel and the kid.”

            “Yes,” he said getting to his feet as Dipper and Wendy emerged from the darkened hallway, arm in arm. They exchanged a quick kiss before they entered the room, but didn’t relinquish their grip on one another. “I believe everything will be ok.”

**Sunday Evening**

            Just to be safe, Soos agreed to protect the women and children. Soos kept watch over Mabel and Melody took the five children and barricaded themselves in the old lab below the Mystery Shack to wait for the all-clear.

            Outside, Ford dropped his supplies on the ground and looked up at the darkening sky. “First, we ought to do the obvious.” He took a deep breath. “Daniel! If you can hear me! Come home!” He waited for a few moments then gave the anxious parents a sheepish look. “It was worth a shot!” Ford shrugged and drew a cryptic circle on the ground with a can of white spray paint. “Good thing I have this awful thing memorized,” he muttered as he placed and lit a series of white candles.

            “Ford,” his brother called, stepping gingerly over the lines. “You sure you got this?” he whispered and put a protective hand on his shoulder.

            “I’m sure, Stanley. It’s ok.” He smiled back. “He’s family.” Ford grit his teeth and Stan hopped back out of the way. He raised his arms toward the sky as he had done decades before. "Triangulum, entangulum. Veneforis dominus ventium. Veneforis venetisarium!” His eyes glowed and the sky went grey and cracked open causing those present to scream in alarm. A huge eye appeared in the air above them and glowed so brightly they had to look away before it resolved into the form of a boy.

            Daniel appeared just as he had when he fought the demon, top hat, tails, and cane, a single exposed eye glowing yellow, but his expression was a nervous one and he hovered in the air, gripping the cane tightly. “HELLO UNCLE FORD,” he said in Bill’s voice.

            “Hello, Daniel,” Ford said. “I assume that is you?”

            He nodded, stretched his left hand out to his side and with a move like a magician pulling a card from thin air, produced a mask. He held it to his face and Ford made a satisfied hum and clapped his hands together as he recognized the owl mask from his dreams. “Ha! I told you it was him. Daniel saved us from the Triangle.” He paused and made a bemused face. Everyone was startled by his barking laugh. “Huh, that’s ironic, isn’t it?”

            Daniel dropped the mask and it disappeared in a flash of blue flame. “THE IRONY WASN’T LOST ON ME, NO.” He slowly descended to hover just above the ground at eye-level with the adults. “I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO KNOW. I DIDN’T WANT TO LOSE YOU,” he said, pouting. “I KNOW YOU WON’T BELIEVE ME BUT I LOVE YOU. YOU’RE MY FAMILY AND IF I LOST YOU AGAIN…” He worried the cane. “I’M AFRAID _I’LL_ BE LOST AGAIN TO MADNESS AND GRIEF AND THE ILLUSION I’D CREATED TO PUSH IT ALL DOWN. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, BUT IT WAS MY FAULT THAT MY FAMILY… THAT THEY ALL…” To their astonishment, the otherworldly boy seemed to be repressing tears. “AND THEN I GOT A SECOND CHANCE BUT I BLEW IT WHEN I FLICKED IN AND OUT OF THE WORLDS TO FIND YOU AND STAN. IT TIPPED OFF RAXUS AND HE TRIED TO HURT CAMMY AND…”

            He didn’t get to finish as Wendy charged him and threw her arms around him. “It’s ok!” she cried. “It’s gonna be ok. We’re gonna get through this.” She pressed his head to her shoulder and he froze. Over her shoulder he saw his father tense and clench his hands into fists. Daniel squeezed his eye shut. “I love you,” Wendy whispered. “Please come home.” She could feel him trembling, but held tight.

            Daniel felt a large, protective hand lift his top hat and smooth his blond hair. His eye shot open and he looked on the compassionate face of his father, Dipper Pines, Pine Tree, the boy whose body he’d once thrown down a flight of stairs. “Come home, Danny,” he said.

            The blond youth breathed a sigh. Quickly, his aspect changed back and the little boy clung to his mother, exhausted and sobbing as if he’d just been overtired and needed a nap. Shushing him, Wendy carried him back into the house, followed closely by Dipper. Stan made to follow, but Ford held him back.

            “Help me with this?” he asked, indicating to the circle and the lit candles. A bit dazed, Stan walked the perimeter and helped extinguish and collect the candles and did as his brother did, obscuring the painted lines with his foot.

            “You still think it’s gonna be ok?”

            Ford looked to the house and smiled. “You know, it took nearly a lifetime to figure it out, but I can say I’m confident that it will.”

            “Why’s that?”

            Ford shrugged. “Love always wins.”

            Stan could not suppress a sappy grin and clapped his brother on the back.

 

            Everyone was retrieved from the basement and Stan and Ford pulled Soos aside to explain what had happened. Mabel lay on the couch in the living room, still unresponsive but breathing. Dipper asked Wendy to take the kids home so the he and Ford could work on finding a way to wake his sister and Daniel noticed her lying there.       “Aunt Mabel slept through the whole thing,” he said, drowsily.

            “No,” Dipper corrected him. His wife tried to stop him but he insisted that he should know the truth. “Your buddy Raxus did something to her and she's been like that since.”

            Daniel perked up and approached the couch. “He wasn't my buddy,” he said. “He was a…” Daniel frowned. “Sorry, I don't know the word. A guy who follows you around because he wants what you have.”

            “A lacky?” Wendy offered.

            “That's it. Sorry. I got a seven-year-old brain. It’s still gotta learn a lot of stuff.” He put his hand on Mabel’s forehead. “I can wake her up. Is that ok, Daddy?”

Dipper’s mouth hung open. He was torn, but a nod from Wendy encouraged him. He nodded his approval. Daniel’s eyes flashed yellow and Mabel was surrounded in a soft, blue glow.

 

.x.

            In Mabel’s dreamscape, Daniel sat on a bean bag chair in his Bill-form and tapped his cane on his crossed legs. “HI,” he said in that voice that was both loud and at a normal volume at the same time.

            “Hi?” Mabel said and stepped over piles of confetti and spent silly-string to get closer to him. “Do I know you? You look like this one guy I met at an art show in Akihabara...”

            “I’M DANIEL.”

            She raised a brow. _“Really?”_

            “YES, SHOOTING STAR. I AM.”

            Mabel gasped and took a step backwards. “Bill!”

            “THE SAME.”

            “Whaddaya mean you’re Daniel?!” she cried.

            Daniel sighed and remained seated in the bean bag. His shoulders slumped, defeated, resigned to the truth. “I WAS REINCARNATED AS PINE TREE AND ICY’S KID. I _AM_ DANIEL.”

            Mabel opened her mouth. She shifted her weight to one foot and put her hand on her chin. “You’re really Bill… but you’re not the demented evil dorito I remember…”

            “NO,” he said softly/loudly. “I’M NOT.” He made a little motion with his cane and drew up a bean bag for her to sit on and offered her a seat. “I’M GOING TO BREAK RAXUS’ SPELL AND WAKE YOU UP SOON, BUT I WANTED TO CHAT FIRST. IS THAT OK?”

            She nodded slowly, unblinking.

            “DADDY’S REALLY MAD AT ME.”

            “Cheezits H. Christmas that sounds weird coming outta your mouth. I’d almost rather you keep calling him Pine Tree!”

            “TOMATO TOMAHTO,” he said, shrugging. “THIS IS WHAT I WANT TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT. I THINK HE’S NOT SOLD ON THE FACT THAT I AM WHO I AM, BUT THERE’S SOMETHING EVEN CREEPIER I FIGURED OUT TODAY AND I DON’T KNOW HOW TO TELL THEM...”

            Mabel shuddered. “Wh-what’s that?”

            Daniel leaned in a little and smiled wistfully. “ALL OF YOU… ARE REINCARNATIONS OF _MY_ FAMILY. YOU AND CAMMY, GRAMPA DAN, ALL MY UNCLES, EVEN SOOS AND HIS KIDS... SINCE I FULLY ‘AWAKENED’ TODAY, I RECOGNIZE YOU ALL NOW.” He hugged his knees. “THAT MEDDLING AXOLOTL MUST HAVE HAD THIS SET UP FOR A HUNDRED YEARS.” He chuckled darkly. “AN EON AGO, I LOST MY FAMILY IN A GIANT ACCIDENT THAT I CAUSED. I WANTED MORE--A BETTER LIFE FOR MYSELF--BUT I DIDN’T CONSIDER THEIR HAPPINESS AT ALL AND MY SELFISHNESS DESTROYED THEM AND ATE AWAY AT MY WORLD UNTIL THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT.” He put his head down on his arms. “I WON’T EVER LET THAT HAPPEN AGAIN. BUT NOW THAT PINE TREE KNOWS THAT I’M BILL, I’M… I’M AFRAID...” He took a moment and looked away. “I’M AFRAID THEY WON’T LOVE ME ANYMORE.”

            From that angle, Mabel could see that there was no eye under the long, blond fringe of hair. Her heart twisted. “Oh man…” she whispered. “I don’t have kids, but I can’t imagine they don’t love you, I mean really deep down? I do!”

            Daniel raised his head. “YOU DO? AFTER EVERYTHING I DID TO YOU AND PINE TREE…”

            She smiled. “Love’s a no-brainer for me. I just do it. It’s a lot easier than hate, so I kind of default to it, I guess. And I think I know my bro-bro pretty well. I know how crazy in love with you he was from the moment you were born. You’re two peas! Nerd and Nerd Jr! I guess it must hurt him to think that maybe you were lying to him, but if you didn’t know…”

            The boy winced.

            “Oh, you did know, huh?”

            “KIND OF. I COULDN’T ARTICULATE IT. I STILL CAN’T. I’M SEVEN. I DON’T EVEN KNOW THE WORD ‘ARTICULATE’. ONLY WHEN MY SUBCONSCIOUS IS FREE CAN I DRAW ON MY POWERS OR ANY OF THE VAST KNOWLEDGE I HAVE AS BILL CIPHER.”

            “Well, then you didn’t lie!”

            “I GUESS…”

            “He _can’t_ stay mad.”

            “BUT…!”

            “Bill! Danny! Kid!” Mabel cried and grabbed his shoulders. “We love you. You belong to us. It’ll be ok.”

            To her surprise he started to cry. “THAT’S WHAT MOM SAID, BUT DAD…”

            She yanked him up off the bean bag and hugged him fiercely. “If that idiot can’t tell you how scared he is and how much he loves you, then I’ll kick his butt until he does!”

            Daniel hugged her back and nodded into her shoulder. ‘THANK YOU, AUNT MABEL.”

            She put him down and put her hands on her hips. “And I love you, too Bill-Danny. Billny? Banny?”

            He groaned but laughed. “JUST DANNY. THAT IS WHO I AM.”

            She laughed, too. “Fair enough. You ready to wake me up?”

            He nodded, picked up his cane and with a wave created a door. Mabel took his hand and they walked through it together back into the waking world.

 

END

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's been fun! I think that was my last Gravity Falls fic. Not bad for a forty year old broad, eh?


End file.
